


worth the wait

by Anonymous



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: F/F, Smut, liz opened the door i just walked through, oh and jen admits she's a lesbian on top of the previously mentioned assplay, top! judy, what's a little rimming between friends?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25561783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: in which:jen takes judy up on that offer,,, you know the one
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 30
Kudos: 101
Collections: Anonymous





	worth the wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lagunasnudebeach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lagunasnudebeach/gifts).



> i'll see you all in hell

“I meant it, you know.” 

Judy’s legs are draped across Jen’s lap on the couch, in the studied laziness one assumes after successfully pinning a murder on the Greek mafia and making multiple large life purchases in cash. 

_ What is there to do now, but relax? _

Jen’s had two glasses of wine, but she’s nowhere near drunk enough to have impaired auditory processing.

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” 

  
  


Judy sits up and shrugs, “when I said,” she singsongs around the quote, “ I’d love to eat your butt but I was seeing someone. Well, I’m not seeing anyone anymore.” 

Jen splutters a mouthful of wine on the couch and rushes to grab the club soda before responding to the truly,  _ truly _ unexpected comment. 

“So what, you thought you’d just ask to rim me as like… a  _ rebound  _ thing?”

“I’m not asking, I’m  _ offering _ . You know, gals being pals, helping each other out…” 

“I think we have different definitions of helping, Judes.” 

“I’m just saying, I think you’d be into it. You’re you know, a little high strung, which, by the way I’m totally into, but like, we could all use a little stress relief. You’re telling me Ted never ate ass?” 

“Calling me anal-retentive is not going to get the result you’re hoping for. And no, Judy, he didn’t, as least not mine.”

(Bambi though- that’s probably another fuckin’ story.) 

Judy pauses, as if unsure of what to say. 

They’ve drunkenly fooled around once or twice in the past month- sloppy makeouts with a bit of over-the-clothes action. It’s very high school. And also, very “remaining at a level where Jen can pretend this is just a practical solution to their fucked life circumstances”, not any sort of… _ gay  _ behavior. Not that Jen’s like, a fucking homophobe, she’s just not.

_ Gay _ , that is.

“I thought it might make you feel more comfortable, being on your stomach. No one would have to see anything you’re not ready for them to see.” 

Judy’s giving her an out, with the vague pronouns- the unspoken message:  _ “this isn’t about me, this is about you, letting yourself be touched again”  _ but all Jen can think about is fucking  _ Judy.  _

Behind her, above her, inside her.  _ Fuck. Ing. Hell. _

“I think… I need more wine.” 

“How about a foot rub?”

“Oh god, you’re not into fucking  _ feet _ too, are you?”

“Nah,” Judy giggles, “But I totally could be if that did it for you.” 

Jen laughs, too, but she’s kind of struck by Judy’s generosity. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really, why wouldn’t Judy be just as giving in bed as anywhere else? But Jen can’t remember ever having a conversation about this sort of stuff with Ted. Not that the sex was  _ bad _ , it was just- it followed a script (you know, back when it actually happened). 

Foreplay, penetration, cleaning up while he’s passed out snoring.  _ The usual _ . 

Judy graciously lets the subject drop, as they revel in their newfound boredom and domesticity. 

As the night drags on, Jen pays less attention to the movie in front of them and gets caught up in her internal monologue. 

See, she knows beyond a doubt that she  _ loves _ Judy, in the way that they’re quite literally ride-or-die for one another. But in those rare moments of sublime drunkenness, or right before she falls asleep at night, when Jen thinks about Judy… it’s like her every fucking nerve in her body is firing to her brain at once. 

When she’s conscious and in control, the… attraction (ugh she hates that word, but it’s not inaccurate) is easy to compartmentalize-  _ this is my friend Judy, who is objectively beautiful and charming and whom I would never want to do unspeakably filthy things to me, even if she so magnanimously offers to do so! It’s nice to have such good friends, isn’t it?  _

But when that guard drops- her body feels what her mind suppresses and it’s fucking  _ excruciating. _ It’s like she’s so divorced from any sort of sexual connection to herself that when those feelings surface, they’re completely overwhelming. 

“You know what, Jude? I’m gonna go to bed.” 

Jen does, in fact, go to bed. 

She doesn’t fucking  _ sleep. _

_

“What… exactly… would taking you up on your ‘ _ offer _ ’... look like?”

It’s not the question Judy expects to hear over her morning coffee (she really did think Jen would pretend that whole conversation had never occurred), but fortunately she’s much less prone to spit takes than Jen. 

“Hmm, well, the boys are going to be with Lorna next weekend, right? So, I was thinking we could spend an evening- or hell, afternoon- in the guest house, I’d give you a massage, we’d put on some music, something soothing but not too woo-woo, you know, and then, I’ll give you an earth-shattering orgasm.” 

Jen chokes just a little bit, and her blush is honestly, like, the cutest thing. Judy only feels a  _ little  _ bit guilty for teasing her. 

“Um, why the… butt stuff, though?”

Judy grins, and maybe Jen didn’t need to meet this wolfish side of her, but well, the rest of their fucking cards are on the table, aren’t they? 

“Well, you know, sometimes our jokes are actually veiled expressions of our desires. I just don’t think you would have said that if you didn’t actually want me to do it. But if you don’t, that’s fine-” 

“No, no. I… am not entirely opposed to the idea. I just wanted to make an _ informed _ decision.” 

“Well, if you have any other questions I can answer, ask away,” Judy winks. 

“I think I’m good for now,” Jen trails off, staring out the window. 

If Judy moves a little too close behind her, melding her hips to Jen’s ass as she puts her cup in the sink? That’s just a happy accident. 

(Jen’s shudder, though? Not at all accidental.) 

_

Judy texts Jen as she’s heading back to the house after dropping the boys at Lorna’s. 

(She definitely needs a little  _ relaxation _ after that fucking ordeal, so, if nothing else, Jude has great timing.) 

**Feel free to grab a shower and slip into something comfortable and meet me in the guest house whenever ur ready ;) <3 <3 <3 **

To her credit, Jen only has a tiny spiral in the shower, distracting herself with um, very thorough hygiene. 

There are probably lots of friends who do this kind of thing, she tells herself. And her motivation is definitely curiosity, not like, some _ thing _ for Judy. It certainly doesn’t mean anything like that for  _ Judy _ , who would probably genuinely offer to do the same for any of her friends. That’s just who she  _ is, _ for better or for worse. 

Jen turns off the water (which has run cold as she perseverates), and dons her favorite robe and a simple, black pair of underwear. 

No need to put on lingerie, right? She’s not trying to  _ seduce _ Judy. 

The guest house smells like lavender and bergamot, which Jen realizes is now a combination she instinctually associates with Judy. She’s not sure whether the smell itself is relaxing, or the knowledge that Judy has made this space so indelibly  _ hers _ that Jen feels safe here. 

(Which is maybe more than she wants to unpack right now.) 

“Hey,” Judy smiles, “you look beautiful- as always.” 

“Yeah, okay, this isn’t like, a date, so maybe don’t treat it like one.” 

Judy frowns. 

“Just paying you a genuine compliment. Jen- we really don’t have to do this.” 

Jen sighs, mad at herself already. 

“No, I’m sorry, Jude, this is just…  _ weird  _ for me. And I  _ want  _ to be here, but I don’t know  _ how _ to be, if that makes sense.” 

“Yeah, it does,” and Judy’s eyes look so fucking  _ kind _ and Jen really needs to be face down immediately, because otherwise all the things she keeps locked up inside will shatter and explode and she’s just not at a place in her fucking  _ life  _ where she can let that happen. 

“Um, I’ll just-” she gestures towards the bed, untying her robe.

Jen is a master of the Gypsy Rose Lee sleight of hand, and easily disrobes and lies on her stomach so that nary a scar is seen. 

She hears Judy’s hands rubbing together behind her, probably using some fucking artisanal farmers’ market goat milk lotion, but damn, if it doesn’t feel incredible when she puts those tiny hands on Jen’s tense, tense shoulders. 

“Wow, you’re tight.”

“Yeah, Lorna has that effect on me,” Jen grunts into the pillow. 

“Well, lucky for you,” Judy whispers into her ear (and no, that absolutely does  _ not  _ make her toes curl involuntarily), “I’m going to make you feel  _ so good _ , you’ll forget Lorna exists.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

“Oh, trust me,  _ I don’t _ .” 

In so far as Jen had consciously thought about these things, about what would happen if she let herself get drunk (or vulnerable) enough for her and Judy to go further than fucking first base, she hadn’t anticipated Judy being the top. 

She’s maybe never been this happy to be proven wrong. 

Judy starts on her shoulders, but her touches slowly grow more broad, until she’s ghosting over Jen’s ribs and kneading her lower back (which is, admittedly, still kind of fucked), and Jen wills herself to relax into Judy’s touch, to focus on the physical sensations instead of her racing thoughts.

When her fingertips begin to skim the waistband of Jen’s underwear, she moves down to her legs, starting at the calves (which, those 4-inch heels take a toll, no complaints here) and working her way up.

A sigh escapes Jen’s lips.

“That feel nice?”

Jen can  _ hear  _ the smirk in Judy’s voice. 

“It’s alright, I guess.” 

“ _ Mmmhmmm _ .” 

(The tremble in her legs when Judy places a light kiss to the back of her knee might give her away.) 

Eventually (it could be ten minutes or two hours, Jen’s got no fucking idea and she’s certainly not concerned about a fickle thing like  _ time _ right now), Judy hooks her thumbs into Jen’s waistband. 

“Is it okay if I take these off now?” 

Jen senses that removing this final barrier will irrevocably  _ change _ things between them, but she can’t bring herself to care- hell, the front yard could be engulfed in flames right now and she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to care. 

“Yeah.” 

Her voice sounds hoarse and strained and already embarrassingly desperate, and Judy’s little joyful  _ gasp _ as she removes the garment suggests her body is no more adept at hiding just how fucking _ turned on _ Jen is. 

“ _ Fuck _ , you’re beautiful,” Judy whispers, the reverence in her voice wrapping around every inch of Jen’s exposed skin. 

Judy resumes her exploration of Jen’s legs (bless the lifelong perks of being a dancer), pausing only to reassure Jen that all she needs to do is say the word and they can stop this and never speak of it again. 

(Jen thinks that maybe she won’t be able to speak at all when Judy’s done with her, but that’s l a different concern entirely.) 

Her kisses this time are wet, all tongue and teeth, and Jen’s already twisting her hands in the bedsheets when Judy reaches her thighs. 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- you, Jen Harding, are  _ heaven on a stick _ .” 

(When she said it before, though, her voice was about an octave higher and half as raspy, yet.)

“You’re ridiculous,” Jen murmurs. 

Judy just gives her a little satisfied chuckle before nudging her legs apart ever so slightly and continuing her ascent. 

She nibbles up and around Jen’s hips, kisses the dimples in the curve of her lower back, squeezes her hands firmly into Jen’s ass, before- _ oh. _

It’s objectively fucking weird, to have one’s best friend tonguing one’s asshole, but Jen can’t dwell on this observation because Judy is also  _ really _ fucking  _ talented _ at it. 

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , why does that feel so  _ good _ ?” 

“There’s a lot of nerve endings back there, Jen! And internally, cisgender women’s sex organs are like, all interconnected. Did you know women can have  _ seven _ different types of orgasms-” 

“Rhetorical question, Jude.” 

(Secretly, Jen is glad for Judy’s rambling- it’s given her the ability to momentarily come back down to earth. Is this why men are always trying to think of fucking baseball? She doesn’t want to think about baseball. She doesn’t want to think  _ at all. _ ) 

“Right, sorry. I’ll just-” 

Apparently, Jen’s positive feedback is enough for Judy to  _ really _ go to town, and she wasn’t kidding when she said she’d  _ love _ to do this. 

Jen can feel more than hear Judy moaning into her, and the intensity with which her nails scratch up the insides of her thighs suggests Judy is just as (fuck, maybe more- although, talk about a close competition) into this as Jen is. 

“You. Are. Incredible,” Judy whispers, as she sits back on her heels to admire a (surely) utterly disheveled Jen. “Is it okay if I touch you?” 

(Jen thinks her clearly _ dripping _ cunt is enough of an answer, but she manages to to moan out something vaguely resembling a “yes.”) 

Jen knows at this point (she knew it the moment Judy touched her skin, if she’s honest) that the way this ends will break her wide open, in a way she hasn’t let herself think about in decades. The  _ want _ she feels surging inside her feels like it could drown her on dry land.

Fuck, the last time she lost herself this much, a man  _ died _ . The way her body is moving of its own will- pushing back against Judy’s hands and into her body, is a sure sign of an earthquake moving beneath her surface. 

_ High fucking strung _ , indeed. 

Judy has replaced her mouth with what Jen thinks is a thumb, rubbing gentle circles against her, while her other hand teases her clit. Jen can’t quite fathom which hand’s fingers enter her cunt (which has never felt so  _ needy  _ and isn’t that a mortifying thought), but she’s not about to ask Judy to stop what she’s doing to draw a fucking diagram. 

Jen lost the ability to form actual words about five minutes ago, but Judy, her mouth now free, more than makes up for her temporary aphasia. 

“God, Jen, I wish you could see yourself, you’re so fucking hot. I swear I could come just watching you-” 

(The way Judy’s breath hitches adds a weight of truth to that statement.)

“I knew you’d be good- but, fuck baby, you are  _ so _ fucking good for me, aren’t you?”

Jen’s body gives the reply that her brain can’t. 

“I can tell you’re close, sweetie, aren’t you?” 

(Honestly, it’s unfair of Judy to turn that name back around on her like this- when Jen regains the ability to eviscerate her with her words, it’s all over.) 

Judy’s hands add pressure in all the right places, and Jen feels like she’s floating, like every inch of her body is fucking  _ singing _ . 

She is gone, gone, _ gone _ . 

“Come for me, Jen, let go for me, baby.” 

_

If there is a sexual Richter scale, Jen has just broken it. 

She feels every single muscle in her body convulse, feels the elbows that were lifting her up to meet Judy’s thrusts collapsing beneath her, feels the rift of a dam of repression breaking within her. 

When she comes down from the last of the aftershocks, Jen feels Judy’s warm body crawling up the bed to meet her, feels the warm rush of tears streaming from her own eyes. 

“Jen? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jen hiccups, “that was just…  _ intense _ .” 

“Bad ‘intense?’” 

Jen shakes her head, leaving wet tracks on the linen. 

“No, good.  _ Very good _ . Fuck, Judy, you’re a dark horse, aren’t you?” 

“What can I say- I’m passionate in all things,” Judy winks, and Jen instantly feels a hundred percent more at ease. 

_ They’ll  _ be okay, even if she’s not sure  _ she _ will be. 

“I just, like, need a minute? To get it together.” 

“Oh sure thing,” Judy assuages, gesturing towards the restroom where she proceeds to brush her teeth far longer than the two minutes recommended by most American dentists. 

“Judy- I’m fine. Please don’t wear away all your enamel on my behalf.” 

Judy bounds back into the room, hopping into bed and smiling her now-radiant smile. 

Jen rolls onto her side to take her in- no longer self-conscious about her scars or her flat chest.

(Judy  _ clearly _ is not a breast woman, after all.) 

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?”

(Judy’s dressed for bed- cotton shorts and a tank top that’s not nearly baggy enough to hide that she’s braless. And Jen? Is  _ totally  _ a breast woman.) 

“I mean, I’m happy to give you a show, but I wasn’t kidding about coming from watching you…” 

“You’re serious?”

“Listen! I like to see a woman enjoying herself!” 

“Clearly,” Jen smirks, relishing the tiniest bit of power she has right now. “Is it gay if I just want to cuddle?” 

“Baby, I just had my tongue up your ass and you’re concerned that a bit of cuddling will turn you into a homosexual sinner?” 

Jen doesn’t laugh. She dissociates for a minute, lost in the revelation that being fucked from behind by Judy was a more emotionally intimate experience than having sex with Ted on their goddamn wedding night. 

“Jen? This,” Judy gestures between them, “doesn’t have to mean anything other than a bit of stress relief, if you don’t want it to.” 

But Jen sees it now, the adoration (fuck, the undeniably  _ romantic  _ love) that Judy has for her. The way it would be just as cruel to lie to Judy as it has been to lie to herself. 

“I’m a lesbian, Judy.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Jen sighs. 

“Did you know that before we went to bonetown or am I  _ that _ good in bed?” 

(She jokes, but there’s a bit of hurt there too- ‘If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?’)

Jen swallows around the tears that she thought she had cried out already. 

“I had my suspicions, but yeah, you really are that good, huh?” 

Judy kisses her forehead, then her eye lids, before stripping off her shirt (Jen respectfully admires her perfect tits, she’s not about to fucking  _ avert her eyes  _ after such a chaotic coming-out) and climbing out of her shorts and wrapping the sheets and her body around Jen. 

“Thank you for trusting me.” 

“Judy, you’re like, the fucking most trustworthy person ever. Of course I trust you.” 

Judy looks into Jen’s eyes, willing her, just for once, to fucking _ accept  _ what’s being communicated to her. 

“Thank you for trusting  _ yourself _ . I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Judes.” 

They say it like they normally do, like it’s as routine as leaving for work in the morning, but Jen knows that Judy now knows  _ every _ part of her, and there’s no going back from that. Only forward, into the great gay unknown. 

  
  


And yeah, they do fucking cuddle the rest of the night (and eventually Jen stops crying enough to sleep). 

When morning comes, Jen sneaks off back to the main house to make coffee (it’s the only thing in the kitchen she’s competent at, and you know what? That’s fucking okay.), waking a delightfully sleepy-headed Judy. 

“So, I figure I have at least 30 years of fucking women I’ve been missing out on, how would you feel about being a professor of pussy?” 

“Jennifer! Be more respectful! A woman’s maidenhead is a sacred thing-” 

She stops the ruse before Jen’s eyes fully roll out of their head. 

“I’m just kidding- would you like to take Fingerbanging 101 or the Cunnilingus Seminar first?” 

“Why not both?” 

And Jen? She makes up for lost time. For decades spent ignoring the pull she felt towards women, for years spent untouched by _ anyone _ , for months spent dancing around this _ inevitability  _ with Judy. 

It was, as it turns out, entirely worth the wait. 


End file.
